Midnight Confessions
by Valerie E. Mackin
Summary: Our girl has some confessions to get off her chest, things she's needed to tell the boys for a while now. 14th in my Boondock Saints OC arc. Pure fluff. This one is set up a little differently, so please take a minute to read Author's Note inside. Rated M for swearing and mild, semi-implied smuttiness.
1. Connor

_**Author's Note: **__If you typically skip these, I'd give this one a scan before you jump in. This one will work a little differently. Chapters one and two are each devoted to a brother, taking place roughly at the same time, while Rocco gets the epilogue, which takes place after each of the brother's chapters is over. Because the boys are just so very different, they each get a different style in their own chapter. I tried to fit chapter style to personal style, so we'll see how that works out. Chapter one is Connor, so assume all talking is either him or our girl. You should be able to tell them apart pretty well, and I'll apologize in advance for the dialogue. I will not, however, apologize for the massive amounts of fluff. You could stuff an entire squadron of teddy bears with this thing. This takes place not long after Afternoon Haze and Dinner Conversations. This will make more sense if you've read those, but no worries if you haven't._

**Connor**

"Shh. You're gonna wake him up."

"So what? He wakes up all th'time…happen t'know fer a fact th'bastard wakes up ev'ry mornin'. An' yer a bit wasted there, t'ink yer talkin' louder dan ye realize. Prolly gonna wake 'im up 'fore I do."

"That's your mother you're talking about when you call him that, you know. I doubt she'd appreciate the reference to herself. And I'm not drunk, I'm just…lubricated…"

"Ye kiddin'? She called us bastards five times 'fore breakfast most days, 'n said worse 'bout our pa when she was stone cold sober, much less drunk. An' I gotta say, that's an interesting word ye used there…mind if I—"

"I don't mind if you…oh, that's…but…if you want to continue…alone time with me, just don't wake him up. One of you at a time is usually all the attention I can handle at once, anyway."

"I like havin' alone time wit'ye. He's been taken ye on all those damn walks; I can barely get five minutes wit'ye."

"I love it when you get all grumbly…C'mere, it's cold enough in here _with_ clothes on, and you've removed most of mine already."

"Yer wish, my c'mand, lass. Let's see what we c'n do 'bout makin' th'rest of'em disappear."

…

"So…another long shift tomorrow, huh?"

"I ain't tryin' t'piss ye off, I swear. We're just…savin' up, an' we need t'take all the extra shifts they'll give us. Gettin' some overtime this week, could take ye t'that little Italian dessert place Saturday night, if ye like."

"I'd love to, Connor, but you already told me you were working then, too, so I made plans with Jenny."

"Dat girl at work who got yer promotion? When did y'get all friendly and whatnot wit'her?"

"I've had a lot of time to myself lately, Connor, and I didn't honestly feel like spending every free moment I have either alone or with Rocco. Besides, she's not nearly as bad as I always thought, and she even helped me figure out who's been taking my lunch at work."

"Really? Who—"

"Not the point, Connor. Look, I get that you and Murph feel like you've got to work all this extra time for whatever reason. I accept that, and I won't dig because if you wanted me to know, you'd have told me. I accept that, too. But I miss you both. I'm lonely, and…I…I'm just lonely, okay? I miss both of you, although I wonder why sometimes."

"What's really botherin' ye, lass? Know it's summat t'do wit'me an'Murph not bein' around, but I can tell dere's somethin' more. We know yer a bit pissed wit'us, but ye know ye c'n still talk to us."

"It's just…It's like you've been avoiding me ever since that afternoon with the storm and telling you about…what it was like when I was growing up. Seriously, ever since then, you guys have been around about as much as my parents were, and it's starting to get to me."

"Aw, c'mon now, lass, ye don't have t'cry…c'mere, I swear we're not avoidin' ye! We're savin' towards somethin' particular, just don't want t'tell ye what yet. T'ink of it as a surprise ye'll probably ferget about long b'fore we ever get a chance t'actually give it to ye."

"But you—"

"Lass, trust me. Th'last thing we want is t'spend so much time away from ye. Swear it on me ma's life."

"I feel like an idiot, I'm really sorry for blowing up like that."

"S'alright. If ye didn't freak out, we'd not know t'was you anymore— Ow, fuckin' hell, girl, t'fuck was dat for?!"

"Just another mini freak out so you could make sure it was still me. Still think you're ready for bed after all?"

"If yer in dat kind of mood, yer damn straight I'm ready. Bring it on, y'hell cat! Only, mind th'last set of scratches ain't quite healed over yet."

"I hope you don't want me to kiss them and make them better, Connor. I might think you're getting a little soft on me."

"T'th'contrary, lass, gettin' quite hard for ye. Speakin' of kissin' t'ings, though…"

…

"C'mon, lass, we didn't ruin it, we just stretched it a little. Dis happened last week, are ye really still so pissed about it?"

"For one thing, Rocco is just starting to get over the damned cold you and Murphy gave him from getting us completely soaked on what's been the coldest day of the year so far with your stupid water balloons. For another, I just tried to wear it again for the first time today, Connor, and you didn't just stretch it a little, you and Murphy took it up a fucking cup size! Why the hell did you have to pick one of my best ones?"

"T'was more stretchy than th'others, and now ye have more room fer comfort, yeah? Yer always sayin' how good it feels t'take 'em off every day, maybe if dey was a bit more roomy dey wouldn't be so uncomfortable. 'Sides, ye hardly wear it 'round our place t'begin wit'. They all seem to come off after a few minutes anyway."

"That's not the point, Connor! You didn't pay forty-five dollars for the damned thing on sale at Victoria's Secret! You don't pay for it, you don't get the right to ruin it! I expect you two to not only be responsible for replacing it, but you have to take me to do so. I don't trust the two of you in the store without supervision."

"So…yer sayin' our punishment fer ruinin' one o'yer fav'rite undert'ings an' soakin' you an'Roc is t'go wit' ye on a field trip to a store full of scantily clad women, an' den we get t'watch ye model dese undert'ings and be responsible fer getting' ye new sexy bits t'wear?"

"Don't you dare get any ideas that this is some sort of reward, Connor MacManus! I can find ways to make this shopping trip a truly miserable experience for both of you, I swear to God!"

"Lord's name, lass, an' not t'comment on yer God-given skills as a woman t'make men mis'rable if ye choose, but 'm not sure y'could ruin somethin' as glorious as dis trip sounds."

"Just try me, MacManus, and don't say I didn't warn you."

…

"Was I lying, Connor?"

"No, lass…ye weren't lyin'. C'n we never do that again? I swear me an'Murph'll not use yer unders t'do anyt'ing but admire yer goddess-like form ever again, y'have me word."

…

"I'm sorry to call you over so late. I know you have the early shift tomorrow, I just…"

"Lass, fer you, I'd spend th'next forty years as sleepless as ye needed me to. Now talk t'me."

"Did Murphy not come with you? I didn't think…"

"Didn't wake him up. He'll be pissed at me come mornin', but I'll deal wit'dat when it happens. I was still up, got yer call, got here soon's I could. An' yer stallin'."

"I just…I've been having bad dreams again, and then I couldn't sleep, and then I just wanted…Yeah, I don't know what I wanted, except that I wanted to be with you. I know that much, at least."

"Here, there's no point standin' around an' talkin' when there's a perfectly good bed just a couple o'rooms away."

"You never think there's any point to talking when there's a bed nearby."

"Doesn't have t'be a bed, an' y'never complain too loudly, 'n me experience. Y'say _other_ t'ings quite loudly, but it's not usually complainin'."

"…"

"Lass, I know we ain't been around as much lately as any of us'd like, but me an' Murph both know somethin's been botherin' ye. Ye had our word we're not abandonin' ye, so y'can't be worried about that anymore, can ye? Ye said y'trust us, least about th'important things. Maybe not with yer underwear an' such, but y'told me once y'could depend on us when it mattered. Did ye not mean it? S'dat why yer havin' yer dreams again?"

"Not even a little, Connor, how could you even ask? You know I trust you and Murphy, and I know you aren't gone so much on purpose. It's just this time of year I always felt the loneliest, when everyone has all their family functions and parties and all those things where parents dote on kids and families go on trips and all that…And last Christmas with you two was fun, but it wasn't…we weren't as…serious then. You two and Rocco are all I have, and now that I have you, my life's that much emptier when you aren't around. I guess maybe I'm just…missing you more than I might've actually let on."

"And ye were plannin' on tellin' us this when?"

"I'm telling you now, aren't I? And you can't possibly be comfortable like this; I've got to be cutting off all circulation to your legs."

"Yer keepin' me warm, I get t'smell yer shampoo all up close an' personal, all yer soft bits are pressed right up against me, an'm pretty sure ye c'n tell ain't no problems with m'circulation just now. An'yer tryin' t'put me off again. We've talked b'fore, an' yer s'posed t'tell us when somethin's botherin' ye. I'm here now, an' I just want t'help ye."

"Your fingers and, erm…circulation are saying otherwise, Connor, and—oh…oh…If…you keep…doing that, we won't be getting anymore talking done tonight…and…"

"Jus' tryin' t'help ye relax, darlin'."

"Liar."

"Fer a good cause, I assure ye. Now, I get it's a bad time of year, an' yer lonely. Murph an' I c'n scale back th'hours a bit, an' no arguin' from ye'll change me mind on it. An' don't think y'can talk Murphy out of seein' more o'ye, either. But ye still ain't told me what's really eatin' at ye."

"How do you…how can you possibly know that?"

"B'cause I _know_ ye. Simple as dat. Yer ours, an' when somethin's wrong wit'ye, we c'n usually tell. Be nicer if ye'd jus' talk to us, but ye've given us so much practice in figurin' ye out. It's hard work, but I _s'pose_ yer worth it—Ow! Fuck, lass!"

"You know you deserved that."

"Always."

"Why do you keep insisting I'm holding back, like I'm hiding something from you? Why would I not just tell you?"

"I'm not one hundred percent certain ye are, girl, but ye called me over here at half past midnight, an' ye won't let me work it outta ye th'best way I know how. Dat tell's me there's somethin' ye probably ain't sayin'. Since I can't get ye t'confess th'fun way, might as well use me tongue fer summat good, as you're not gonna let me do nothin' else wit' it till ye've finally spilled what ye've been keepin' back."

"Connor, I don't know what you're talking about—"

"Who's th'liar now?"

"For Christ's fucking sake! You want me to tell you what I've been afraid to say? Fine! I fucking love you, alright? Are you happy now? Jesus!"

"Lord's name, lass, an'I love ye, as well. S'matter o'fact, I _am_ fair content. S'middle o'th'night, got me arms around th'woman of m'dreams who finally admitted she loves me, an'm fair on me way t'celebratin' this glorious revelation…Care t'join in?"

"You…just…you're just okay with saying it like that? Just spitting it out like it's the easiest thing in the world to say and doesn't change everything?"

"Far's I'm concerned, nothin's changed 'cept maybe you'll feel a little better. Loved ye fer a long while now. Can't put me finger on when, exactly, but 'm glad ye finally got around t'sharin' wit'th'whole class. Didn't want t'push ye; know ye haven't had a lotta practice sayin' it. Figured it'd be easier fer me to say it den fer _you_, so I gave ye th'time I thought ye'd need. Was I wrong?"

"I…no…no, you weren't wrong. Have long have you know I wanted to say it?"

"At least since me an'Murph broke yer table. Maybe a little while 'fore dat. But ye weren't ready, we both knew ye weren't. So we didn't push. Much. Murph wanted to, an' I didn't stop him, dat's his business an' yers, but we both t'ought ye needed a little space, as well, so…dere ye have it."

"But you just knew? How did you…"

"Well, see, lass, th' t'ing is ye kinda already said it once, t'both of us. Y'may not remember, ye were more dan a little drunk. T'was after ye puked on that girl what was hittin' on Murph in th'diner. We carried ye'home, an' ye asked Murph fer somethin' just as ye was passin' out. We t'ink ye misunderstood what Murph said, 'cause ye told us ye loved both of us, too, an'…well, den ye passed out. Didn't remember a t'ing t'next day."

"And, what, you didn't think I needed to know this?! Geez, Connor, that's kind of freakin' important! I don't even…How…Oh, God, really? I need a minute to…Okay…wow."

"Ye alright? I could—"

"If you're going to do anything besides put your hands back where they were a minute ago and put your tongue to better use, then we might as well go to sleep for the night, because those are the only two things left on my to-do list, Connor."

"C'n t'ink of several good t'ings t'do wit' me tongue, lass, but dere's only one t'ing I need y't'do wit' yers at th'moment."

"And what exactly would that be?"

"Say it again, lass. Say it low, say it soft, an' say it jus' fer me."

_**Author's Note**__: I thought since Connor was first to meet her, it'd only be right that he have the first chapter. Did I mention how hard it is writing a story that is nothing but dialogue? Won't be trying that again anytime soon, I don't think. Next comes Murphy, whose chapter will be completely different. Takes place over roughly the same time from, a week or two. Let's say last week and a half of November, first few days of December. Sound good? Good. Thanks so much for reading; please take a moment to let me know what you think. I've mostly finished Murphy's chapter, but if there's some tiny little tidbit you want to see that I might not ever have thought to include, feel free to let me know. Thanks, and I'll see you at the next chapter._


	2. Murphy

_Note: Keep in mind, this chapter takes place at the same time as Connor's chapter, so no major revelations have been shared yet in the story._

**Murphy**

She wants very badly to tell them both that she loves them. She thinks sometimes that they know this, especially Murphy. At the very least, he seems to reciprocate her feeling of always being on the verge of saying something then changing his mind. He says other things, how he loves it when she turns red; how he thinks that sound she makes just before she comes sounds like Heaven; how sorry he is he can't stay tonight because he has the early shift tomorrow, but he'll make up for it (he always does).

She catches him watching her sometimes when she's talking to Connor or when he's waiting for her to finish getting ready to go out or even when she's undressing after work; always when he thinks she isn't paying attention. There's a look about him, wistful and intense and eager, and she wants to ask him about "the look," but that might broach "the conversation," and despite both men's reassurances to the contrary, she's still a little afraid she's going to scare them off.

Because, surely if they were okay with saying it, with her saying it, they would've said it by now, right?

It's not like she has a lot of practice saying something this significant. When she was growing up, her parents never really responded to her childishly devoted declarations. As she grew older, there didn't seem to be anyone worthy of receiving what, in her mind, were the most important words anyone could ever say to anyone else. She's not even sure if she knows how to say them properly anymore.

So no one broaches the subject, "the conversation" isn't had, and no one says it out loud.

But Murphy still tells her every day, all the time, in all those little ways that matter so very much.

...

She decides she wants to spice things up for him a little and attempts to seduce him to Heart's "Crazy on You." He refrains from laughing (though she can see the spark in his eyes). He declares it to be "the sexiest fuckin' t'ing" he's ever seen. Afterwards, he informs her that if she's ever up to a sequel performance, he'll get her a sexy nurse's costume if she's willing to do something to Bon Jovi's "Bad Medicine."

She blushingly admits that, for him, she'd be willing to try.

…

Though it's getting seriously cold out, she likes it when they go on walks. It's free, so it doesn't cost him any of the money he's been saving, and it's nice to get away from the crowd at McGinty's. He agrees, though he admits he enjoys the walks because he likes having her undivided attention, and this is more easily achieved when they aren't in a crowded room full of drunken men.

Or with his attention hogging brother.

Despite getting caught in the tropical storm only a few weeks previous, she still likes walking through the Gardens. The leaves were mostly blown away in the storm, leaving the place bare of most colors and starkly beautiful in the rapid onset of winter. He, of course, has to tease her mercilessly when she turns red as they cross the bridge, and he offers to let her do a bit of comparison shopping, if she's so inclined.

She stammeringly and reluctantly declines (severely tempted as she is), citing the visibility of their breath on the air as proof that the weather is far too cold to consider that sort of thing outdoors. Also, there are far too many people present at the moment.

He grins, quietly agrees, and casually mentions that he's recently realized his favorite color is that particular shade of crimson her face has just turned. He then lapses into a comfortable silence for the next few minutes. She waits patiently, knowing what's coming next and wondering how long he'll hold out before asking if she's ready to go back to her place where it's a bit more private and a lot less cold.

One minute and sixteen seconds later, he's practically carrying her to the nearest subway station.

…

With the help of some (a lot of) whiskey, she admits to him there's something she's been wanting to tell him so badly but she doesn't know how to without ruining the best thing she's ever had going for her. She wants to tell him, really she needs to tell him, but she's just not sure how because she's never really done it right before, and won't he please tell her to shut up now because she's babbling and ranting, and oh, God, too many words are coming out, and can she have his sweater now because it smells so nice?

After listening patiently and assuring her that listening to her drunken babble-ranting is one of his favorite pastimes, Murphy shrugs off his sweater and promptly hands it over. To make her feel better and help her slow her unstoppable verbal outpouring, he shares the story of his and Connor's first tattoos, which she's been asking about for several minutes now in between bouts of random apologies and minor confessions.

Murphy goes into some detail, explaining how the stylized holy women on their necks were gotten with their sixteenth birthday barely under their belts, paid for with random chore money and pocket change they'd been saving, and tiraded over by their ma for nearly a month before they were allowed out of the house for anything besides church, chores, and school.

She informs him that his story is "much funner" to listen to than her own inebriated prattling, and that right now his eyes are the exact color of a prom dress she saw in a magazine once that reminded her of the ocean after a storm, but not the ocean itself because that was darker. He hides a smile and pulls her close, stroking her hair as she continues nattering on about anything that crosses her mind until she falls asleep against his chest. Even then, she continues muttering in her sleep.

She never does get around to actually telling him what she's been wanting to tell him, though.

…

It's not all sunshine and daisies for them. She occasionally has to admit to herself that he and his brother have the mentality of immature twelve-year-olds who very obviously lacked a strong, disciplinary role model in their youth.

After an incident involving the roof of the boys' apartment building, one of her best bras, some water balloons, and a particularly cold November afternoon when she and Rocco unwisely decide to take a shortcut through the alley instead of coming around the front of the building, she wrings such a storm over both their heads that they actually behave and don't tease her or pull a single prank on her and Rocco for over a week.

When they do eventually return to their typical juvenile behavior, she silently wishes the teasing reprieve would have lasted longer, but her boys are basically adolescents at heart. She supposes that's their instinctive way to pay attention to girls sometimes. She even asks Murphy if either of them was a hair puller back in the days when they were running around the schoolyard and tormenting their poor, unsuspecting female classmates.

Murphy grins and replies that Connor was the hair puller when they were younger, but if she'd be willing to put her hair into those "pigtail t'ings," he'd be perfectly willing to take a crack at it later when they're back at her place.

Especially if she has one of those "cute little school girl outfits."

…

And then, one random night, a night when absolutely nothing special happens, no earthquakes, no tropical storms to wrench the truth from her, no disasters or miracles to rock the world as most people know it, he tells her that he loves her. She can't help but immediately reciprocate, a reflexive action that she never once regrets, and what follows is a blur of quiet words, soft lips, and hot, tangled limbs that she can later only vaguely recall, yet will still remember on her dying day.

Her world shifts just a little, and everything looks slightly different and a little more like just right.

_Author's Note: So, I will confess that this is my favorite style of writing. I don't get to do it a lot with my Boondock Saints stuff because of how I started writing the arc, but maybe I'll fit something in. One more tiny chapter for this one, really an epilogue if you will. I technically have the next story in the arc done, but as it's been done for about a year now, I feel I need to do some updating before I post it. My goal is to have it posted before Christmas. We'll see, won't we? Thanks so much to everyone who has read, reviewed, favorited, and followed so far. You are all fabulous. If you've gotten this far in the story, please take a moment to let me know what you think. I really appreciate reviews._


	3. Rocco

_**Note:**__ Just a bit of an epilogue. Couldn't resist getting some Rocco in here. Special thanks to Countess Black, whose lovely message inspired me to get a bit more of my Rocco on. This isn't anything huge, just a wrap up. Enjoy._

**Rocco**

"You look different tonight."

Rocco's words are more than a little slurred, although it's past midnight, so I know he's been at it a while.

"You get your hair done or somethin'?"

I grin, feeling strangely buoyant despite the decreasing temperatures and increasing nastiness of the weather. It will probably snow soon, and while snow looks rather pretty and makes for a much cleaner-seeming Boston, it makes getting around town one hell of a headache, and the salty sludge from the streets tends to turn my favorite black boots a grimy, off-gray color. I shake the moisture from my coat and hang it on the coat rack before sidling up to the bar. I give Roc a quick once-over, noting his unusually long expression and wilted appearance. I worry for a moment that this might become a regular thing for my normally cheerful friend, but I figure I should answer him before I let the silence draw out for too long.

"Not really, just in a good mood. You're pretty sauced there, Roc, trouble on the home front again?"

He nods, staring morosely down at his glass. "Work ain't goin' so hot, neither, fucked up again today. Chewed out for a while by a fat-fuck, Elvis wannabe."

Instead of taking the stool next to him, I signal to Doc for two more of what Rocco's just finished, and I lead him over to a corner booth. He leans heavily on me, but I'm prepared this time, and we make it there without incident and with both drinks mostly in their glasses.

"You need to spend the night on my couch again? Or at the guys' place? They're already asleep, they have a dawn shift again, but I know they wouldn't really mind."

He nods miserably. " 'Preciate it, hun, but I don't wanna bring ya down t'night; I can tell yer on cloud nine."

I look at him incredulously, but he's already started on his next drink, taking a long draft before glancing back at me. Suddenly, like the sun poking out from the clouds in the middle of December, his perpetual smile breaks out.

"Ya finally fuckin' told each other, didn't you? Knew you were bound to break before too much longer, what with all the moon eyes goin' around the three of ya. 'Bout time, too. Was talkin' about takin' up a round of bets on it with the guys here. Doc said he'd put money down that none of you would do it before New Year's…shoulda taken that bet, but either way, I'm glad for ya."

I stare at him in amazement, but really, I shouldn't be surprised. He knew when I hadn't told the boys how I felt, so it makes sense that he'd know when I finally did tell them.

Of course, I'd never have had the guts to tell them without their own special brands of coaxing…

Rocco sighs, tossing down the last of his drink and leaning back against the booth. He eyes me speculatively, grinning at what must be an incredibly goofy expression on my face.

"Really, hun, things with Donna are shitty, and they're probably always gonna be shitty, but if you're really happy, then I'm happy for all three of ya."

"You know what, Roc?" I admit, my smile stretching to match his. For the first time in a long time, I'm not worried about anything or trying to hide anything from anyone, and I feel a hell of a lot lighter for it. "So am I."

_**Author's Note**__: Another one done, then. Keep an eye out for my next planned one, Served Hot. I have it done, but I have to do some major renovations, as I've written at least six other stories in the series since I wrote that one, so it's a little behind the times. "Served Hot" will, of course, be followed by "Served Cold," because you know that's what I do…You're all fabulous, and you have no idea how much your reviews mean to me. _


End file.
